


Sleeping Habits

by aparticularbandit



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, and rose trying to help, but rose wanted to start with emilio stuff first, don't ask me what this is, i kept having the image of this in my head, of luisa being shit at sleeping, so apologies for that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 00:19:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17335130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aparticularbandit/pseuds/aparticularbandit
Summary: Emilio leaves and Rose goes to see Luisa.





	Sleeping Habits

Emilio curls up behind her, wrapping one arm about her thin waist, and presses a kiss to her neck.  The whiskers of his beard brush against her skin; Elena trained her not to flinch.  He’s flaccid as he turns away, the sheet covering his boxers as he scoots to the edge of the bed.  He doesn’t expect it – not consciously – but she turns to him, settling herself into his subconscious, and places a hand on his bare shoulder as he affixes his silver watch to his left wrist.

“Are you going somewhere?” she asks, voice hushed, before echoing his kiss with one of her own, pressed just to the top of his left shoulder blade.  His skin tastes of burnt out cigars and bitter, fine wine.  If he were a woman, she might have loved him, but then again, if he were a woman, Elena wouldn’t have sent _her_.  Something about damage control.  “It’s still dark out.”

This is not the first time he has left before the sun filtering through their curtains blinds her (she always sleeps facing the windows when she can afford it, as she’d much rather the view outside their panes than that of the man sleeping next to her), but it hasn’t happened so frequently yet that it is a pattern.

“Business,” he answers, voice low, and by this she acknowledges that there is someone else in the house who will be less than pleased if their discussion causes them to wake.

“I didn’t hear a phone call.”  Truth – sometimes she feigns sleep so that he will continue his conversations in bed next to her in hushed tones so as not to wake her, so that she can overhear what they are saying and keep tabs on the art thief practice of which she’d been previously informed ( _not_ by her dear husband, but by one of his former ex-wives – the only one still living who knew how deep he’d gotten).  This is not one of those times.  “Were you hoping to slip out without my noticing?”

Emilio finally turns to face her.  He cups her face with one hand and holds her gaze with his own steel dark eyes.  “Of course not, my darling, but I did not want to worry you.”  His gaze drifts to her lips, and he heaves a sigh.  He is a man and she is the Sistine Chapel and so he wants; he is married to the Sistine Chapel and so he _has_.  When he has time.  “I would have called.”

“You could take me with you.”  She cups the back of his head, fingers massaging the skin where the base of his skull hits the top of his spine, then she leans forward, letting their lips meet, letting him taste her.  Her free hand takes his and brushes his fingers along her soft skin – the curves of her breasts, her hips, resting on her waist.

The sound that escaped his lips as she finished doesn’t encourage her the way it would if it were _someone else_ , but she pretends that it does the way she was trained to do.  He pulls back as she leans forward, and although his fingers trace her skin, thumb applying the slightest pressure along the bone (she has feigned enjoying this, and she does so now, offering him the slightest hum of pleasure, eyes closing for the briefest of moments before meeting his in equally feigned want), he moves away, standing, turning away from her as he heads towards his closet.  “No.  There’s too much risk.”

“For a hotel owner and a lawyer?”

His shoulders straighten beneath his wife beater.  He doesn’t say anything as he hides in their closet, and she gets out of their shared bed, following him.  His pants are already on by the time she enters.  “Did I say something wrong, my love?”

“No.”

Emilio places his foot on the bench so that he doesn’t have to bend so far over to tie his shoe.  For someone else, the action might be endearing, and she plays it off as such, stepping closer to him.

“I can take care of myself, Emilio.”

“I know.”

When he puts his shirt on, she steps close enough to begin buttoning the buttons, to smooth his collar down as he ties his tie.  “Then why can’t you take me with you?”

“Next time, my darling.”  He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, brushes his fingers through her red curls, and sighs.  “I wish I had more time, but I have to go.”  This time the kiss is to her lips.  “Go back to sleep.  I’ll be back in a few days.”

 _Days._   The word lingers in her mind longer than the taste of him tickles the back of her throat, longer even the time it takes for him to find the door to the garage and shut it behind him, not loud enough to be heard throughout the house.  She follows him long enough to watch him leave, long enough for _him_ to know that, as much as his wife might love him, she was not pleased with being left behind or being told to just _go back to sleep_.  But when he turned back to face her, she gave him a sleepy smile and a wave of her fingers.  The image, she hopes, conveys not _disappointment_ but _inability to simply go to sleep_ , which would make him feel ashamed for having woken her in the first place.  
  
It’s a subtle, small thing.  She isn’t sure it will work.  Mostly she wants to make sure she knows exactly when he is out of the house.

Once he is gone, her mask drops.  The smile is leaves with him, replaced with gritting teeth and a tightening of her jaw.  Her eyes glance briefly upwards as her lips roll between her teeth, tongue flicking across them.  Her hands tighten on the stairway railing before she turns her back on the rest of the house and returns up the stairs.

She pauses in front of one of the other bedrooms, not even taking the moment to consider her actions before pressing her hand against the door resting in its frame.  It hasn’t been shut tight enough, instead left a crack open, so her gentle touch pushes it open enough for her to creep in on her sleeping stepdaughter.

Luisa lies in a twisted mass of sheets.  Most of her appears to be flat against the mattress, but her arms are splayed to one side and her legs to the other, head barely poking above the sheets, her body taking up the full of the bed and then some, hands and feet hanging over the sides of the bed.  She shifts under her gaze, twitches then seems to jump to a different position entirely, a sudden resettling as though to make herself comfortable in a contorted shape that doesn’t look like it could _ever_ be comfortable.

It is with this in mind that Rose shuts the door behind them with a gentle click and crosses the room to curl up on an empty corner of the bed.

Immediately, Luisa shifts.  She cocoons herself in the blankets then curves towards her, allowing Rose time to bury herself under the layers of blankets before wrapping her arms around her and pulling her against her.

“Raf?” she asks without opening her eyes.  “Are you having trouble sleeping again?”

Rose doesn’t say anything.  Instead, she burrows her head deeper into the other woman’s chest, tucking one arm around her waist.

“Hey, it’s okay.”  Luisa brushes a hand through Rose’s hair, only following it to shoulder-length before repeating the motion.  “He doesn’t hate you, you know.  He’s just tired.  And busy.  He’ll see.  Eventually.”

Rose nods into her chest.

“Here, you can stay with me.  Just sleep here and go back to your room when my alarm goes off.  He won’t notice.”

When Rose nods again and pulls Luisa a little closer, the other woman heaves a little sigh and relaxes against her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  She doesn’t say anything else, just rests her chin on the top of Rose’s head, and returns to her deep slumber.  It is only then that Rose allows herself to relax, butting her nose just where the other woman’s jaw met her neck and gaining nothing in response.

Her eyes flutter closed and she takes a deep breath as she, too, falls back asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i think this will probably only have one more chapter. it was meant as a one-shot but. i like them as separate chapters i think, instead of having a break and continuing.


End file.
